


Stories of Sorrow

by navaan



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Female Friendship, Gen, Gen Fic, Grief/Mourning, POV Female Character, Post-Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 05:58:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11776905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/pseuds/navaan
Summary: Diana turns up on Martha's doorstep sometime after the funeral.





	Stories of Sorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TKodami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TKodami/gifts).



Grief wasn't new. 

Even before she'd lost Jonathan she had know what it was like to grief. She'd been young when her mother died and she'd grieved for the children she wanted but couldn't have - until Clark came into their life and brought all the love with him that she and Jonathan had been waiting for.

He'd been such a blessing.

Her little star child.

Martha Kent had loved her little boy with all her heart from that very first moment when he'd smiled at her right after they'd opened his spaceship. And from then on her greatest fear had been losing him.

"Someone is going to find out, Martha. We have to be careful. Someone will want to take him from us. He's special. We know what will happen if someone suspects."

Jonathan had been so right, when he'd warned time and time again that people would fear Clark because he was different.

She had never stopped worrying about it, about losing her baby, her son, her little alien sunshine.

And now it had happened.

Lois hugged her goodbye before she left for Metropolis, looking for her own ways to deal with the loss. She had stayed for nearly a week and she was not the kind of woman to simply sit around. 

That was something she could emphasize with.

Alone, Martha too kept herself busy, with cooking, cleaning and walking the dog across fields. Wherever she went people were talking about what had happened: Superman's last fight, his death. To people he had been an alien, a hero, a threat or a savior and everyone had an opinion now that he was gone and had died for all of them.

She couldn't stand it.

What did they even know?

At least Lois had known all of Clark and Superman, so that Martha wasn't completely alone in her grief for both the man and the hero. 

But none of these others had a right to grief now, not like Martha.

When she watched the news in the evening, pictures of memorials and people carrying lit candles to his statue in Metropolis, she felt anger. Now they missed him; even those who had feared him before. In her selfish, jealous grief she wanted to yell at them to let him rest in peace now.

Her son as dead.

The world mourned - and yet she had more right to the grief than any of them. She was the mother. She had seen him grow up and protected him when he had been defenseless against a world that wasn't ready to know him.

But when the pain lessened and the anger settled, she admitted, that he had belong to everyone. It had been his choice.

Interviewers asked people what they felt about Superman's death and how Superman had touched their lives. As Superman Clark had touched many lives and he had fulfilled his Kryptonian parents' final hope: Kal-El had set the example that people could strive for. 

She wondered if they were all together now, Kal and his parents.

That was when she switched off the television set and walked into the kitchen. She'd had enough.

Her own pain overwhelmed her, but she couldn't cry.

The dog barked, agitated.

Someone rattled their knuckles against her door.

She was reminded of the first time Lois Lane came to them, searching for a wonder.

Ready to shut out the world before it could intrude on her sanctuary she shushed the dog. But - tail wagging - the animal was already calm suddenly, looking towards the visitor.

A woman stood outside.

Martha opened for her and she knew who it was before she had pushed the screen out of the way.

"Yes?"

"Mrs. Kent? My name is Diana."

The woman had a face that was all clear lines and perfect proportions, but the truly remarkable feature were the eyes: Old and young and understanding and terrible deep and endless like mirrors. But her smile was sweet and natural - and sad. She knew her from the footage of the fight, where she'd stood over Clark's body.

And from the funeral. Martha remembered her from the funeral. From the _real <_ funeral.

"I am a friend of your son's."

"I know," she said. "You are _her_. You were there."

Diana's smile changed and she nodded, a small dimple in her cheek that made her smile less clear, but made her seem more perfect at the same time.

Martha wanted to thank her, wanted to send her away, wanted to nod and cry and scream and yet be alone in her grief. "You were at the funeral," she said slowly. "The two of you brought him home." She remembered the Bat and his dark voice and the way he had saved her, but had failed to save Clark.

Diana nodded. "Everyone deserves to rest at home in the end. Everyone should find peace where they belonged."

Her smile bore sadness and the wisdom of the ages - and when she took a step towards Martha, there was nothing Martha could do but step out of the way to let her in. 

"Tell me," Diana said. "Tell me about your son. Let me know his story and let us remember together. He will never be lost if we remember."

"Yes," she agreed like the ritualistic words, spoken with the hint of an accent and the sadness of someone who had a lot of time to reflect on belonging, compelled her to share all her sadness, grief and love with Diana. "Yes."

She wanted nothing more than to tell the story.

* * *

For a night Diana remained at the farm while Martha talked of Clark and Jonathan, of Superman and Lois and all the chances that were missed and all the joy that had been shared. Diana listened and nodded and waited till her story had finished. Then she talked.

And so Martha learned of Themyscira and the wise Queen Hipollyta, of General Antiope, proud warrior and loving aunt, who had taught Diana all her skills, and of Steve Trevor who had come to Paradise to bring Diana to the world and who had taught her about a different love and a deeper kind of grief then she had known before.

"How old are you?" Martha asked trying to make sense of the youthful face and the stories of World War I, lived and experienced. 

Diana simply smiled. "I've seen a world burn in fire and rebuild itself twice, sister. The sorrowful memories we carry, they are part of us. We shall never give up the pain. Because that would be forgetting- And yet - there is always love. And so we heal and remember that love was part of our lives and nobody can take it away."

Martha stared at Diana who delivered her speech so quietly.

Love.

Yes, the love would never go away.

"Thank you," she said and thought of the memorials out there. Clark would always live on in her heart and Superman would go on in the hearts of men and women across the globe. Her son would never be forgotten.

"I've kept myself away. Watching, waiting, observing. I told myself that the world was changing and I was no longer needed as more than an observer," Diana said quietly and Martha watched her step through her kitchen, handle common every day objects like the electric kettle with familiarity – and that more than the youthful face seemed to contradict the mystical and historical depth of her story. And yet, it also made Diana _real_. Like Clark she was a real breathing person. More than a hero and more than a legend. 

"And yet I watched and stepped in only when I was needed," Diana concluded.

"The world needs heroes, Diana."

"Yes," Diana agreed. "Now more than ever." She poured hot water into two cups to make them tea.

"Thank you," Martha said and accepted her cup of soothing chamomile.

"No," Diana returned. "Thank you, Martha, for sharing your grief with me and for listening. It's been years since I shared my story with anyone."

And just like that Martha smiled. A calm had settled over her that for a time she'd lost. Thinking of Clark still hurt so much that merely thinking of him took her breath away. But sharing had taken the burden, and listening had helped her find new focus. "Tell me," Martha said. "Tell me more about the life you had."

Diana shook her head and laughed. "Not tonight. It is time for me to go back into the world. But I'll be back to tell my stories."

And Martha accepted that. 

Together they sipped tea.

The world was still turning while Martha Kent shared a cup of tea with a goddess-warrior in her kitchen.

"He would have liked you," Martha whispered, thinking of Clark.

"I liked him very much," Diana said. 

"Stay," Martha offered. "Just for a while."

And Diana only inclined her head. She would stay. For now.

* * *

Nothing went back to normal.

Nothing had ever been normal.

Nothing was easy.

But nothing had ever been easy either.

Life went on.

Wonder Woman stepped out into the light to take up her own place in the hearts of the people who needed hope and a hero to look up to. Like a star in the night sky, she brought a guiding light into the darkness.

Diana ate freshly baked cookies in the Kent farm kitchen and helped around the farm when strength was needed. Then she stepped back out to be Diana Prince and Wonder Woman. But she always came back to talk and share her stories though and Martha was grateful.

Pain throbbed and dimmed. Clark was still gone. Like with Jonathan, Martha thought the wound would never entirely heal, but the scar would become a precious part of her if she embraced it.

She was ready to embrace it, like Diana had embraced the world again.

Hope.

Martha knew hope. 

“Come with me,” Diana urged and Martha found herself in a car, the dog in the backseat, Diana in the driver's seat. 

They were going to Metropolis.

They were going to the Superman memorial.


End file.
